


A Cottage Industry

by DanaK1993



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cheese, Fluff, Goats, M/M, Milk, My first GO fic, Sheep, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Wool, so very much fluff, spinning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24276868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanaK1993/pseuds/DanaK1993
Summary: It was all Aziraphale’s idea to raise sheep. The goats came into the picture later.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic happened because someone asked “What if Aziraphale wanted to raise sheep for their wool because modern cloth production sucks”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic happened because someone asked “What if Aziraphale wanted to raise sheep for their wool because modern cloth production sucks”.

The calling from the barn wakes them, as usual. Crowley grumbles and squirms around under the quilt, reluctant to leave behind a good dream. 

Aziraphale gently shakes his shoulder to rouse him. “Chores, my dear. You can get back to sleep afterwards.”

“Mmph. Says you, angel.” But he sits up anyway, stretching luxuriously before grabbing at the sweater at the end of the bed, pulling it on over his pajama top. Too-big sweatpants complete his too-early-for-this outfit, and he stumbles out of bed after Aziraphale. 

Crowley’s barely reached the doorway before a mug of steaming coffee is pressed into his hand by a smiling angel. He drains it quickly, and then they’re out the door and off to the barn to see to their herd. 

* * *

The barn isn’t new, it had been on the property for years before Crowley and Aziraphale had moved into the cottage. But they’d had to do quite a lot of repair work- all right, mainly a few miracles- to get the place habitable again. 

It all started when Aziraphale had been complaining about how modern clothing just didn’t measure up to the old standards- earlier in the conversation, Crowley had cheerfully admitted to claiming responsibility for the Industrial Revolution (although, if he had known at the time how children would be exploited during that period, he wouldn’t have been so quick to make that claim), and by association, shoddy, mass-produced cloth in general. 

Thus, by the next week, they had a ready source of wool right in their backyard, and a well-stocked, rehabilitated barn. Crowley had thought about trying to resist making a “cottage industry” pun, and given the idea up for lost about half a second later. 

The goats came in when Aziraphale had gotten the idea to make his own cheese, and Crowley, liking the idea of an animal born to make trouble, as goats are, had agreed. 

He had no idea what they were really in for. 

* * *

By unspoken agreement, Crowley sees to the goats, and the morning milking, and Aziraphale sees to the sheep. They’re both glad that lambing and kidding time is over- they got no sleep for a solid week during that. 

Their herd is small, especially compared to those they’d seen in places like ancient Mesopotamia- four goats and six sheep, not counting their babies. 

Right now, as Aziraphale is hauling down a 50-pound bale of hay, Crowley has his cheek leaning against a goat’s warm flank as he milks her out. Freddie is the herd queen, and everyone in the barn knows it. She is always the first one on the milking stand. Her kids, twin doelings, watch the proceedings with ears raised attentively. 

“‘Be thou diligent to know the state of thy flocks, and look well to thy herds; for riches are not for ever’,” Aziraphale quotes. 

Crowley grins. “I dunno, angel. I’m feeling pretty rich right now. And by my reckoning, there is ‘enough milk for the food of our household’ here. All right, Freddie, you’re done,” he adds, letting her jump down from the stand. “Blanche’s turn now.” 

“Freddie’s in a good mood today,” the angel commented. “No mischief on the stand.”

“It’s early yet, there’s hours left for mischief.” Crowley smothers a yawn as he sees to Blanche. “How’s little Georgette?”

“Fit as a fiddle; you’d never know anything happened.” The angel sounds absurdly pleased, and he has reason to be. Georgette was the runt of her litter, and had needed some special attention during her first fragile days. Now she leaps about the pen with her playmates, as happy and healthy as any other lamb.

The rest of their chores go smoothly, and at last they open the gates for the herd to stream out onto the dew-soaked grass. Aziraphale and Crowley stand together, holding hands and watching in silence. They still need to bring the milk up to the house, to wash up and get breakfast started- but for a moment, they stand there, lost in thought with the sunrise over their shoulders.

This is their work, and the results of six thousand years of work. This is their Eden. And now and for always, they are together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the lovely folks of the Ace Omens server for inspiring this piece, and to LeeshaJoy for suggesting that the animals be named after Queen members, the Golden Girls, and famous authors.  
> My main source for information on dairy goat herding (and no small amount of philosophy) is Brad Kessler’s book “Goat Song”. This book has become a yearly reread for me, and I find new bits of wisdom in it every time I pick it up.  
> The Bible quote Aziraphale and Crowley are referencing is Proverbs 27:23-27


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spinning and singing ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here’s another chapter. I blame my server buddies for encouraging me.

Aziraphale offers to take the milk down to the cellar while Crowley goes into the kitchen, washes his hands, and guzzles another cup of coffee. 

“We have got to get an espresso machine,” he mumbles over the rim of his cup, glancing towards the kitchen window. 

Their cottage is built on a little rise, overlooking the pasture, so if he walked over to the window just now, he could see the herd at their grazing, Freddie nudging her sisters towards a small copse of trees, and Stanley* the ram patrolling the perimeter. 

Back in the old days, you’d have to keep a constant eye on your flocks to keep them safe- predators were always about. So were bandits. One mistake on that front might devastate your wealth. 

This isn’t Canaan, or Mesopotamia. There are no more wolves in England. And their cottage and the land around it is protected by its owners’ power. Their herd is as safe as anything here. 

A creaking on the stairs lets him know Aziraphale’s coming back up. 

“‘S there enough to make cheese today, then?” Crowley asks.

“I think so,” the angel says with visible satisfaction. “We can do it this afternoon, or tonight if you’d prefer.”

“Tonight’s fine,” Crowley says after a moment’s thought. “I know you work better on a full stomach. Hey, maybe we can try to recreate that cheese you were talking about, that one Rachel and Leah were so good at?” Crowley only knows of that particular cheese by reputation- Aziraphale had been the one to stay with Jacob and his family. Crowley had been around Esau and his Edomites more. 

Just last week, Aziraphale had managed to replicate Sarah’s bread recipe and the look of delight on his face had been one Crowley would treasure for a long time.

“Oh! I think I would quite like that,” Aziraphale says, his eyes lighting up in anticipation. “Shall we get breakfast going, my dear?”

Crowley grins, draining his second cup of coffee and stands from the table. “Sure. What kind of eggs today?”

* * *

They had sheared the sheep shortly before lambing, with the help of a neighbor, and Aziraphale had let her choose whichever fleece she had wanted from the lot as thanks. That left Aziraphale and Crowley with five whole raw fleeces to process and eventually spin into yarn. 

Most of the fleece is still sitting in the cottage guest room, in various states of cleanliness, but after breakfast, when the sun has come out, drying the dew from the grass, Crowley fills a basket with fluffy, washed wool, and he and Aziraphale pick up their spindles and a blanket, and go out to the pasture. 

Crowley has a spinning wheel and that’s what he uses most of the time- it’s faster, and more efficient, after all, and they have a lot of wool to get through- but for outdoors spinning, a drop spindle is simply more portable. 

The sheep and goats frolic and play, browse and graze, around them, with one or two occasionally meandering over for petting. They have all learned by now that Crowley gives very good ear scritches. 

The lamb Georgette wanders up, placing her tiny hooves delicately in Aziraphale’s lap and looking up into his face. “ _ Maa _ ,” she comments. 

“Hello, dear,” Aziraphale smiles gently, and over on his left side, Crowley thinks he just fell in love with him all over again.

Seeing Aziraphale this relaxed, this happy, is a greater gift than Crowley could have imagined. The months after the Apocalypse That Wasn’t had been full of proverbial stumbling blocks as they each tried to get used to their newfound freedom. But now they’re here, and together, and no one will ever come between them again. 

With a hop and a skip, Georgette vacates Aziraphale’s lap to sprawl in an ungainly heap on Crowley’s instead. He has enough warning that he can set his spinning aside, and resettles her to a more comfortable position. With a small sigh, Georgette closes her eyes for a nap. 

Aziraphale chuckles and picks up his spindle again, and Crowley follows suit, trying not to disturb Georgette too much as he works.

“ _ When the night has fallen across the sands, and the forest has gone to sleep, the stars are above, reflecting my love, drowsy and dark and deep _ ...” 

He only half realizes he’s singing and when the lullaby is over, Aziraphale says quietly, “I’ve always wondered, did you come up with that song yourself? The first time I heard it was on the ark, to the children.”

“Er, yeah,” Crowley says. “It didn’t really have words, originally, not really, but it was mine. Still is.” He pauses and tilts his head in thought, figuring out how to explain without saying something that would make either of them flinch. “I don’t mind... explaining it. It’s one of the few things from Before that I could keep.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes widen in realization, but Crowley keeps going, his voice deliberately held level for both Aziraphale’s sake and the sleeping lamb in his lap. “I had the chance to put words to it, once I got up here, and they just seemed to fall in place. I might not sing it often, but I’ve never been ashamed of it, angel.”

Aziraphale is silent, quite obviously organizing his own thoughts before speaking. He takes Crowley’s hand, both of their spindles lying still. “I’ve always thought it a beautiful song. As beautiful as its composer.”

“Gah,” Crowley grimaces. “Mush.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way, my dear.”

* * *

They talk and they spin as the sun climbs across the sky, and Georgette eventually wakes up and goes to find her mother for her lunch. Aziraphale and Crowley have a few finished skeins at their sides by then, so they have no problem with going back to the cottage for their own meal. 

“Sandwiches and soup, my dear?”

“Sounds great, angel.”

* * *

*Named for a couple of different sheep Crowley had known back in the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah, Abraham’s wife, baked quite a lot of bread when God and Their angels came to visit (Genesis 18), so it’s no wonder Aziraphale would recall it fondly. 
> 
> Stanley the ram is a nod to wheeloffortune-design’s Stanley the Nativity Sheep. 
> 
> The song Crowley sings is one of my own composition.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the lovely folks of the Ace Omens server for inspiring this piece, and to LeeshaJoy for suggesting that the animals be named after Queen members, the Golden Girls, and famous authors.   
> My main source for information on dairy goat herding (and no small amount of philosophy) is Brad Kessler’s book “Goat Song”. This book has become a yearly reread for me, and I find new bits of wisdom in it every time I pick it up.  
> The Bible quote Aziraphale and Crowley are referencing is Proverbs 27:23-27


End file.
